


The Wonders of Boat Making

by shopfront



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Boats and Ships, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Goldenhand, The Clayr's Glacier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-07 00:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: The day that Sam puts the finishing touches on Ferrin's new leg is the same day that a message hawk arrives from the Clayr. The message it brings bears none of the usual formalities of a summons from the Glacier, and is unsigned. But it summons him nonetheless, and Sam finds himself more than eager to go.The message says that Prince Sameth has been Seen learning the art of making Charter imbued boats at the Glacier.





	The Wonders of Boat Making

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/gifts).



After taking such care not to lose his footing on the damp and slippery tunnel floor, Sam was startled to step through yet another branching archway onto soft, dry sawdust. A small cloud of it pillowed out from below his foot, bringing with it the familiar smell of pine and memories of sneaking in to visit the Belisaere message hawks as a small boy. When he looked up again, still lost in thought, he caught the fleeting twitch of a smile on Garrenil’s face, and felt blood rush to his own cheeks in response.

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly as he began to walk forward once more, stepping lightly now that he knew the path was less treacherous.

“It matters not, Prince Sameth,” Garrenil said ahead of him, barely pausing to glance back again at Sam over his shoulder. The faint rushing sound of the river lessened still further as they walked, making their voices bounce oddly off the rock walls. Garrenil's face was serene, and the light from their Charter lit lamps made his very usual Clayr hair glow darker, like burnished gold. Sam’s fingers itched with the urge to add a fresh line of light marks to the metal scrollwork that decorating outer edges of the lamps, to bring up the light to a level that would make Garrenil look like a Clayr again - calm, blond, and most importantly untouchable - but he restrained himself.

Finally, they reached a small door which Garrenil swung open with very little ceremony. Sam had to duck his head to follow through the low doorframe and was distracted by the dull thunk of his feet meeting wood instead of stone, muffled by yet more sawdust. So when he straightened again in the room beyond, the sight of it all took him by surprise and made him gasp.

Stretching out before them was a long open space, the walls stretching above them to gather in ridged arc’s, carved into shapes that reminded Sam of the churches and cathedrals he’d visited once in Ancelstierre on a school trip. Charter marks dripped down the walls, twisting and twining together too fast for Sam to catch all of them, but he could see marks of warmth and light and ones to make the room dry and protect it from fire. A small fireplace was lit and burned merrily at the opposite end of the room, casting unnecessary extra light and warmth out onto the many planks of timber arranged before it in various stages of being cut and shaped.

“This is-,” Sam started to say, astounded. “I thought you said it was only you who worked down here?”

“That is true,” Garrenil called back, having already made his way halfway down the room while Sam was busy craning his head back and staring around like an idiot. “But as I am of no use to the Nine Day Watch, I have had plenty of time to work at my craft.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sam heard himself say absently, as he followed more slowly. He paused here and there to caress the half-completed boat frames propped along the walls. The wood fairly hummed under his hands, calling to him to lay marks here and there and pull the rest of the boat together around them. “They… they _want_ to be made.”

“Yes, they have been waiting for you,” Garrenil called, and the faintness of his voice gave Sam pause, drawing him up and out of his reverie so he noticed how far apart they had become as Garrenil reached the fire.

Quickly Sam stepped up his pace, dodging the deepest and most obvious pools of sawdust in a vain attempt to avoid making a mess as he hurried to catch up. Coughing slightly from the dust as he finally reached the fireplace as well, he accepted the mug Garrenil offered him in silence and dropped onto one end of the single bench seat with an accidental ‘oomph’ noise that made him immediately swallow a sigh.

Thank the Charter Ellimere wasn’t there to see him clomping around so ungracefully, or he’d never hear the end of it.

Garrenil didn’t seem to mind, however, and when he took a seat himself he sat in the middle of the bench, not at the other end. His side pressed firmly against Sam’s as he settled, and Sam gulped at his tea hurriedly, hissing through his teeth as it scalded his tongue. He kept his eyes on his mug, hoping the noise would go unnoticed, but only moments later he felt Garrenil begin to shake with laughter beside him.

Startled, Sam looked up and found himself nose to nose with Garrenil, whose eyes were dancing with merriment.

“Sorry,” Sam said again faintly, only for Garrenil’s chuckling to deepen.

“There is no need to rush, or to apologise,” he finally said quietly, humour still colouring his voice. “I have Seen you reading the books no sooner than tomorrow, and we have some time before the final meal will be served in the Lower Rectory.”

Sam followed the line of Garrenil’s gaze as it broke away from his briefly, darting to a low bookcase along the wall on one side of the fire. He only half took in the sight of the books, however, as Garrenil took one last sip of his own tea before placing the mug on the bench on his other side. His hand returned quickly, landing on Sam’s knee this time as he continued to speak about the books in a low rumble.

But the words just flew in one of Sam’s ears and out the other unheeded. He swallowed again, hard, though blessedly this time without any tea in his mouth.

“- But first I will introduce you to the bones of the boats. The books say you will need to know the boats, before you can learn how to spell them the rest of the way into being.” His hands began to gesture as he spoke, subconsciously tracing out the curved shapes of the boats in the air just above Sam’s knee. The sides of his hands brushed along the top of Sam's thigh as they moved, making Sam more aware than he’d ever been before of the thinness of the fabric that covered his legs.

“I didn’t think you had the Sight,” Sam interrupted, already cursing himself for it as soon as the words flew from his lips. “Er, that is, I thought you said that you weren’t part of the Watch and-”

Garrenil paused, hands still aloft with his pinky finger brushing a burning brand into Sam’s kneecap. His eyes were soft however, and knowing in a way that made Sam’s heart rise, beating, into his throat. “I am not,” he replied gently.

Questions leapt unbidden to the tip of Sam’s tongue when he said nothing further, but they died away just as quickly as Garrenil took the half-empty mug from Sam’s hands and twisted slightly so he could place it beside his own.

“All of my mother’s children gained the Sight at the same age,” Garrenil continued, his voice a rolling murmur as he turned back. Seated so closely together, the movement made Sam suddenly conscious once more of their proximity. Garrenil’s own knees pressed against Sam’s now, instead of his hands, and his body was a long line of heat against him that somehow seemed more intense than even the warmth of the fire in an already warm room. “Each of my sisters were Seen with the silver and moonstone upon their brows, but I woke in the morning of my birthday from a vision, instead of from sleep. Yet, when I tried to join the Watch with the others, there were… difficulties.”

“Difficulties?” Sam asked, his voice cracking slightly over the word. Quickly, he wet his lips with his tongue, only for his breath to catch once more when Garrenil’s eyes dropped to follow its path.

“I have the Sight, but I cannot See with the Watch. And they cannot See when I am with them,” Garrenil said. The steady surety of his voice had disappeared suddenly, replaced instead with the abruptness of someone who is fighting distraction and trying to hurry through what they needed to say despite it. “I have no gift for the Charter either, but these lower reaches of the Glacier have been ideal for ensuring I could not disturb the Watch with my proximity. When this room was Seen, working with the boats seemed an appealing alternative.”

Sam cast about desperately for a response, but words eluded him. “You enjoy the work?” he finally asked, wincing at the banality of it. But Garrenil just smiled.

“I do. Unlike the papercranes, boats cannot be imbued with personality. Instead they must be found, and unearthed. It is satisfying,” he said. As he said the last word, he licked his own lips, and Sam found himself breathing in sharply.

“And you still See,” he continued, half-realised conclusions swirling in the back of his mind, confirmed when Garrenil nodded.

“I Saw you here, with me,” he confirmed, and Sam nodded absently along with him.

“You sent the message hawk,” he said, understanding filtering through into his words as Garrenil continued to nod. Sam opened his mouth, and then shut it again with a snap. But Garrenil just continued to watch him, eyes twinkling, and Sam found it in him to screw up his courage and try again. “What else did you See about me?” he finally asked.

Garrenil’s smile widened as he bent his head closer. Sam followed suit, half-expecting a whispered confidence - which was silly, in this giant but empty room deep below the Glacier where there was no one else around to overhear them. Instead, he ended up making a startled noise, one that was lost against Garrenil's mouth as he dipped his head to close the remaining distance between them with a brief kiss.

“A great many things,” Garrenil said as he broke the kiss, but didn’t move back. Each word sent a puff of air swirling across Sam’s lips, catching on damp skin and making him shiver.

“Perhaps you should show me,” Sam said, his voice suddenly filled with a confidence he didn’t feel as his mind cast back to the sight of Garrenil’s hands tracing firm shapes in the air. He shivered again, the sensation running down his spine as Garrenil suddenly brought those same hands up, clasping Sam by the elbow and caressing the line of his jaw.

“I'm sure that I was,” was all that Garrenil said. Amused knowing threaded through his voice as his head dipped again, and Sam suddenly lost any thought of the boats, and the awkwardness of what to do his own hands, and everything else except the feel of Garrenil’s lips against his own and the fire still casting merry, dancing warmth across their skin.


End file.
